


Maunderings

by betawho



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/pseuds/betawho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor could be so insanely annoying most of the time, but Romana had learned that under that frivolous exterior, lay an unusual wisdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maunderings

He sat on the hilltop, one knee cocked, picking the burrs off his boots one by one and flicking them into the tall grass.

The wind sighed around him, the golden sun beamed down. Romana stood over him in her white gown and stared down at him, hands on her hips.

“ _What_ are you doing?”

He tilted his head so he could see her under his hat brim, his pale eyes calm. “I’m picking the burrs off my boots,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious.

She crouched down, crossing her arms on her knees. She considered him seriously. She tilted her head in worry. “You’re not usually this quiet.”

“I’ll have you know I’m often quiet. Just not often all together,” he said, flicking another multicolored burr away.

She sat down beside him, tucking her legs up beside her, leaning on one arm as she considered him.

“A tendency toward withdrawal could be considered a sign of...” she trailed off when he turned and gave her a flat look.

She frowned, now she was worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He took his hat off and set it in the grass, ran his fingers agitatedly through his mop of curly hair, then flopped backward in the grass, staring up at the blue sky.

“Have you ever wondered, Romana, what life is for?” he said in his deep timbre of a voice.

Her eyebrows popped up. “I’d think you, of all people, would have figured that out by now. At least to hear _you_ tell it,” she said.

He turned and grinned a huge, toothy grin at her. “True."

“No,” he waved a hand majestically at the sky. “I mean, why so much of it? Why so many different types. So many planets, so many solar systems, so many lifeforms. Whole ecosystems that work together as a single entity.”

He waved a hand back and forth as if testing the air. ”Does it ever occur to you that the very air we are breathing is the life breath of every other lifeform on this planet? Every tree, every blade of grass, every hopping bunny and enraged bull. The very planet itself, aspirating like a sleeping cat.” His hand fell to stroke the furry grass beside him.

“Naturally, all ecosystems are interdependent...” she started in a lecture tone.

He stared at her with those strangely wise eyes. She stuttered to a halt. “Then what _do_ you mean?” she asked, feeling as if she was on the precipice of some profound understanding.

“Forget your Academy books for a moment. Lay back.” He waved down at the long grass beside him.

She stared at him, then down at her pristine white dress. She looked back at him. His eyes dared her.

With a sigh she straightened her legs and lay back in the grass, crushing it beneath her, pushing away the thought of grass stains.

The long grass separated them, rising straight up around her, encasing her in solitude.

“Look up,” his voice said, disembodied, profound in that way she’d noticed before, but dismissed due to the general frivolousness of its content.

“What do you see?”

“The sky.”

“What do you feel?”

She stopped and thought about it, the cool ground, the silky grass, the wind soft and tender. “The wind,” she finally said.

He said nothing. After a while she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. It would be just like him. She sighed in exasperation and just let herself relax. He’d wake up soon enough. Or she’d poke him awake.

She stared up at the depth of the sky. The ground molded to her, the grass muffled any outward sound, the sky deepened as her eyes unfocused, she could see tiny dots of energy cavorting in the air, could nearly see the wind brushing past in pastel swirls.

Her whole body relaxed, she could no longer feel the ground beneath her, as if she’d gradually become part of it. The blades of grass brushed against her like her own skin, the wind became her breath, the sun the heat in her veins.

His voice rumbled again. “What do you feel?”

She wouldn’t answer him, it would give him to much ammunition for later. But somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice sighed. “Alive.”

—

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